("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: encountr.txt (MF, exh, voy, mast, size) Authors name: JackBro (JackBro_99@yahoo.com) Story title : Encounter in the Deep Woods ------------------------------------------------------ This work is copyrighted to the author © 2001. Please do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non- commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------ Encounter in the Deep Woods (MF, exh, voy, mast, size) by JackBro (JackBro_99@yahoo.com) *** A boxum, shy little lady meets the man of her dreams while camping in the Deep Woods. She discovers him while he is entertaining himself, and he later entertains her. She discovers the perfect male submissive. Part 1: A Cold Wind A rustle of wind blows in from the surrounding trees, making me look up expectantly to the deep blackness of the night. I yearn that HE might appear. I dream of his gorgeous, tanned body. I imagine him walk out of the darkness and into the clearing of my campsite, the campsite of this frail and very anxious young woman. But instead, I see only shadows, cast by the swaying branches, illuminated by flickering flame of the burning campfire at my feet. The wind blows hard and cold, hard enough to sway my hair over to one shoulder and cold enough to form a momentary chill in the air. It tingles as it brushes against the skin of my naked feet, legs, and bare thighs. Two drops of cold water, one on my red, possibly sunburned shoulder and the other at my knee, percolate down from the moist leaves above, still moist from a brief and relaxing thunderstorm from just an hour before. This causes me a shiver and I am tempted me to reach for the blanket at my side, but then I remember the heat of the day. As Papa liked to say, the day had been "hotter than a roasted jalapeno in Baja." The sun shined bright and the humidity made it unbearable. It was a typical hot Midwestern summer day, one of those days when the air so heavy you just knew it was going to storm. And then it did! Just as the sun went down, a thunderstorm roared in from the northwest, bringing with it the wind and thunder of an angry God through the trees. I retreated into the confines of my stifling tent to let it pass; praying all the trees remained upright and no water gathered to flood my campsite and wash my little body away. I found myself wishing HE sat with me, protecting me, calming me as I sat helpless and alone, listening to the thunder crack, the wind roar, and the rain pound on the sides of my little tent like a thousand angry fists. And then it was over. It lasted only a few minutes, and then it passed. I crawled back out of the tent and into a different world. Small branches lay strewn around the campsite. My bare feet became wet on the soggy grass. It was a wet, muddy, but also a much more comfortable world. I think the storm dropped the temperature by a good 20 degrees, enough to cause a chill in the air as I... ...now sit alone in face of the fire. The chill, however, lasts only a moment before the roaring flame of the campfire rises to my protection. It swells upward in the breeze, flames leaping into the air and seeming to nearly touch the overhanging branches. It radiates increased warmth as though to apologize for the chill caused by its misbehaving cousin, the wind. I feel proud of the campfire; even a little surprised at the ease it took to build. The last time I camped was as a child, probably ten years ago. We used to camp often as a family. I wished we still did, but the outings sadly came to stop after my parents needed start paying tuition for my five older brothers. Papa promoted education above all else. His own experience as a southern immigrant working in the farm fields of California and Arizona provided ample reason. He said we had to "cut the corners" in his own imperfect English, and the summer camping trip up from Chicago to the beautiful forests of Northern Minnesota, Wisconsin, and the Upper Peninsula were one of the saddest cuts I had to endure. It took a surprising lot of money to go camping with a family of seven, or at least that's what Papa said. I discovered the campfire was surprisingly simple to build. "Kidder must first remember," I still remember Papa instructing my older brothers. "Must let fire breath. Gotta make open at bottom to suck air." I still remembered his words, and it was a lucky thing I did, for Papa never let me build a fire myself. I grew up in what could best be described as a traditional Catholic family where men did the hunting and the women stayed in the kitchen. Well, maybe it wasn't quite that bad, but Papa and Mamma did teach us very clear lines of division between the sexes. This applied to the summer camping trip as well as our everyday lives. The making of a campfire clearly lay on the "manly" side of the fence, as did grilling, fishing, and maybe even a little hunting if Papa and my brothers got the chance. The more mundane tasks fell under the woman's domain, like setting the picnic table and washing dishes. I shuffle my chair back to escape the waves of heat from the first just as another breeze blows through the trees and makes it roar with increased vigor. Flames leap high into the air, this time high enough I think to burn of the leaves of the overhanging branches-or at least that's what it looks like when I gaze upward from my seated thrown-a lawn chair. Now I worry over too much fire. In my zeal to make a fire, any fire, I wonder if I piled on too much wood in my first attempt. Not that it had any chance of causing a forest fire, not in a green forest and certainly not after a thunderstorm. My concern revolves around the light. I worry someone might see me. Although I sit alone and the campsites are spaced far apart, I can't help but recall the two-hundred-some other campers who also occupy the park. Some of them I can make out in the distance from the evidence of their own campfires. One sparkles through the trees on my right and another ahead of me. A closer campsite stands on my left, I knew, but everyone appears to be in bed. The anticipation that HE might arrive and the knowledge of so many people creates natural, embarrassing thoughts in my mind. I can't help but think of a religious old woman (a woman very much like my own Momma, I can't help but consider) casually strolling into my camp. Maybe she comes in need of some kitchen ingredient. Or maybe she just wants to stop by to talk. The people in this part of the country-unlike Chicago, or any other big city for that matter-are known for their friendly attitudes. It would not be uncommon for someone to walk over to a neighbor's camp simply because it was the neighborly thing to do. Or even worse, a dirty old man might notice me from one of the surrounding camps or the gravel road that serves to connect the various sites. He might notice my top and my top-heavy proportions, and sneak up to catch me from behind. My imagination shifts into high gear as I consider who might walk innocently into camp and discover me. I cannot risk being seen, not in my present state of undress. For last-ditch protection, the blanket sits beside my chair. It lay on a few remaining pieces of wood to keep it out of the mud. I can grab it if necessary and quickly wrap its protective fabric around my waist. If too late even for that, I think about using sunburned thighs as an excuse, but the excuse sounds too ridiculous for anyone to believe. No matter what I say, it would be hard to explain my dress, for I am hardly dressed at all. I feel naked and I practically am. The only thing I wear is the top from my bikini; the bikini top HE complimented me so graciously on earlier in the day. The bottom half drips soaking wet from a makeshift clothesline tied between two trees. HE is the reason for my present state of undress. It is a gift to him; a reward. It is a hint of what I desired. Part 2: A Hot Body I first met him by accident earlier that day. It was just after lunch and at the peak of the noonday sun. The campsite boiled in unbearably heat and humidity; hot enough to drive me towards to the cool water of the lake. The lake was Lake Michigan, where the water's vast depth kept it cool and isolated from influence of the blazing sun above. Three miles of continuous beach hugged the state park, all of it covered with a gradual drop-off of sand that made it perfect for swimming. People to jump in anywhere along the 3 mile stretch, but a protected area stood roped off in the center of the park. It had locker rooms, showers, lemonade stands, ice cream fountains, and everything else associated with a public beach. I stayed away from the public beach, deeming it too discomfiting to approach. My habitual morning walk showed me a more appropriate place. My walk took me along a hiking trail to a more private spot of sand. The trail came within sight of the lake, to a place where I figured I could cut through the forest, walk between the trees, and reach the water will little problem. That is where I hiked after lunch, and that is where HE first saw me. I judged the bikini gave me good reason to be discrete. I originally bought it for William, my ex-boyfriend, or now more properly loathed as "The Bastard." He originally came up with the idea to go camping. "How about taking a trip up north to one of the state parks?" He suggested over our regular Thursday night pizza feast. "Couple times you mentioned camping with your family. How about a revival? I think I know someone who'll lend us the equipment." I thought it a wonderful idea. Neither of us wanted to stick around a deserted campus over the long 4th of July holiday weekend. A camping trip sounded like a lot more fun. Just the two of us, alone up in the big north woods, going hiking, swimming, and whatever else caught our fancy. At night, we would sleep together in a small tent or maybe under the stars. It sounded so romantic; even kind-of daring and erotic. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to do it outdoors; under the stares. The thought of it sent a shiver of excitement down my spine every time I considered the possibility. I am sure it excited William too. I think that is why he suggested camping to begin with, but I didn't mind. I liked William. He was special-or at least I thought he was-and I thought he liked me too. We had been dating now for a solid three months and not yet "done it." He wanted to, of course, as did every guy who ever took me out on a date. Men, I've noticed, like to stereotype. When they see a short girl with big boobs, they automatically type her as a bimbo and assume she is easy. That may often be true, but the assumption did not apply to me. Momma raised me to be a traditional girl. That meant a guy had to earn his reward. And with the threat of AIDS and all the other sexually transmitted diseases going around these days, the passage of time only served to increase the sensibility of her advice. Now don't get me wrong! I'm not one of those fridged Catholic girls that Billy Joel sings about either; the type that remain virgin until marriage. I'm proud to admit I've had sex with a half-dozen guys over the years, and I really enjoyed it too. I fooled around with William too, but only with innocent games like titty feels. The furthest it ever got was when I once allowed him see me topless. Immediately after-and after he lifted his jaw back off the floor-I bid him good night. I allowed him nothing more. With William, I waited a little longer than usual. I liked him well enough and didn't want to let him go, but there was just something about him... I don't know what it was. I've tried to put my finger on it many times, but I can't quite pin down the issue. Part of it came from his drinking. He drinks a lot of beer and booze, but then the same can be said of most of the guys in college-and even a lot of girls. Drinking is part of the culture of college life. I think I maybe even liked William a little better because he drank. The guy became a hilarious comedian when he got drunk. Another part of my caution, I know, came from his anxious attitude towards sex. He really worked at getting me into bed. All guys did, but William worked at it harder than most. He even got seriously physical with me once, holding my hands with one hand and grabbing one of my tits with the other. I screamed, but he just laughed and quickly let go as though it was all a joke. I'm pretty sure it was, but I still wonder. There is just something about him... In the end, I decided to ignore my paranoid reservations. Three months of dating was long enough, so Sunday night I called to give him my answer. I told him I wanted to go. The next day I went to see him. I walked up to his dorm room unannounced, anxious to tell him about the reservation I made that morning and to find out about his latest progress on the camping gear from some friend of his. And more importantly, I also wanted to show him a little present I bought myself for the trip. I anxiously wanted to show him the tiny article of clothing now wore cleverly disguised under my blouse; a present for me to wear but for William to see. "But how will we know if you drilled Diane or not?" One of his friends asked from the other side of the partially opened door as I was about to push it open the rest of the way. I recognized the voice as Moog's, one of the rudest, biggest jerks on campus. The guy once grabbed one of my tits on a crowded dance floor. "It's not as if we can go right up and ask her," Another voice spoke. This one I didn't recognize. "Say Diane, I have a question. You let William to fuck you on that little camping trip or not?" I automatically stopped outside his door at the recognition of my name and the sound of four men laughing at the remark. I could tell they were drinking. "Damn, you are so lucky," Moog spoke after he recovered enough to speak. "I can't believe that hot bitch even agreed to go along with your plan. Everyone I talked to says she's fridged as ice." "She is," William agreed. "Why else do you think I've been going out with her this long? I'd drop that bitch a long time ago if she'd put out some. Her cunt just better be worth it." "Worth a hundred bucks?" "Worth a lot more than that," William countered. "The hundred bucks is just the fringe benefits. Her cunt is going to be the real prize." It took me a moment to comprehend the words. I understood everything the moment I heard the words out of Moog's mouth, but it took several seconds longer for the idea to sink into my head. My boyfriend was taking bets on me. I caught him in the process of making a bet on weather I would let him fuck me or not. It was terrible. I ran away crying. I cried all the way back to my room, and then cried for a long time into the night as I explained what happened first to my roommate and then to my best friend. William left me devastated, especially the way he called me a bitch, but at least I discovered the real man. I slept little that night and lay in my room numb most of the next morning. The telephone rang a couple of times and there were two knocks on the door, but I refused answer any of them. I just wanted to think. My roommate and best friend thought up a cruel, but very simple way to get back at him. They talked me into calling Moog the next night and simply telling him that he was a hundred bucks richer. Predictably, William tried to phone me immediately after. He called several times, but I hung up on him every time. Then even more predictably, he sneaked into the girl's dorm after hours and tried to apologize through the closed door. At this point, my roommate called Campus Security, lying to the police and telling them that William was some kind of pervert who she thought had been following her the last couple of weeks. I vouched for her validity, telling the police I thought I recognized the face from the one I caught looking into our window late the night before. It was a mean, nasty little trick. But I have to admit, it bought me a tremendous sense of release. I felt a lot better after I heard the police try to question a confused William out in the hallway and then drag him off to jail. I wanted nothing more to do with the guy. Meanwhile, the problem of the campsite reservation and the present remained. My first reaction was to return both, but the reservation was non-refundable. And as for his gift, well, I'm sure I could have returned it, but it seemed like such a waste. Growing up with five older brothers had always limited my options when it came to fashion. No words ever needed to be said; no directions given. I just knew what was expected. I always bought conservative clothing and made sure to hide all that might be of interest to a man. The most profound example of this was swimsuits. I just knew I was expected to wear a one-piece suite. His present looked small and very hot. It was a two-piece string bikini made even smaller by my big boobs. I bought it because I thought it would be fun to get William a little excited and aroused. What did it matter if a man saw me wearing it at a campsite? So what if a stranger gazed down on me lying on the beach? The chance of meeting someone I knew at a campsite 300 miles from home had to be exceedingly rare. And besides, lots of girls wore string bikinis. Well, maybe not too many young, good looking brunettes with a double-D cup size strolled along the beach every day, but I certainly was not going to be the first. So what if I happened to be one of them? * * * * * Glancing down at my own body illuminated by the fire, I almost feel sorry for William and at what he is missing- almost, but not quite. I see a tiny bikini package that seems to cover close to nothing. Two large orbs swell out of my chest, touching slightly in the middle, and then rounding around like two big melons to the outside. The only fabric is the strap that stretches down from behind my neck to the little white cups that serve to cover the furthest extent of my big boobs. The cups start so low I fear my nipples may become exposed, which they almost do. The top fails to cover perhaps half my boobs, and with boobs as big as mine, that is quite a lot. This is what HE saw me in the first time we met. It is also the reason I chose to take the long way around to find a deserted stretch of beach. The public beach might have been okay if William was along, where I could use him as cover-like a safety blanket. But alone it was different. I knew my body well enough to realize I would get no rest. As soon as I sat down, every young guy on the beach would take turns trying to pick me up, and probably a few of the older men too. It happened whenever I wore a one-piece conservative suite, and I am sure this little bikini would amplify it a hundred fold. I looked easy, and that is exactly how the guys would treat me. For this reason I took the hiking trail. For this reason I wanted to find a more isolated spot. And it was for this reason, luckily, I encountered HIM. * * * * * HE presented himself just as I turned off the trail and started the walk through the trees. Lake Michigan lay off in the distance, peaking through the trees, not more than the length of a football field away. I walked in my sandals and hung onto a cheap plastic bag with sun block, towel, hat, and a book inside. The bag also contained the matching cover-up to the bikini, the one I elected to remove while still on the trail. I wasn't too worried about meeting up with anyone. No one was mad enough to go hiking in this kind of weather. I failed to notice him because I was practicing being an environmentalist. I was stepping cautiously, being careful not to step on and kill any of the new saplings that might be trying to peak their way through the soil. I was paying attention to the ground at my feet instead to where I was going. It was obvious why HE didn't see me. He stood busily concentrating on other things. Half way to the beach I saw him, up against a tree, not more than ten feet away. He was a big man, more than six feet tall and budging with muscles. I could tell he spent a lot of time in the sun because his skin was tanned a golden brown that made him look like one of those gorgeous hunk lifeguards that spend half the day working out in the gym and the other half on a surfboard. The first thing I noticed was his handsome face and the blond hair that came down to his shoulders. And the second thing I noticed was that he was butt naked nude. "Oh my God!" I screeched in surprise, and then said it again as I realized what he was doing in the deserted spot between hiking trail and beach. His hand extended down between his legs and pistioned twice before detecting me. To my utter amazement, he turned down the opportunity to cover himself. He declined the opportunity to turn away out of embarrassment or run away in shame. Instead, the guy just stood there, naked, right in front of me. He hand stopped its pistioning action and he simply held himself there for me to see. And I looked. I am not sure why I looked, but I think it formulated from his good looks and then from the awareness of his size-and I am not talking about the size of his body or the size of his muscles. Although he had a big hand, I noticed it could not cover the thing. It did not even come close! His fingers did not encompass it either in width or length. His prick swelled out both from the ends of his fingers and from both sides of his closed palm. And it was such a nice, shiny prick. I could see it had pre-cummed quite considerably. With his organ shinning brilliant in its own wetness, it looked as though he was about to eject. And it wasn't just his organ, but my eyes wondered down to his balls too. They refused to hang straight down like an ordinary set of nuts. They looked to be very firm instead, standing out and upward at attention. I've always found myself attracted to a man's nuts, which I know a lot of other girls find very odd. The nuts on this man were quite impressive. "Hi," A deep voice spoke from the gorgeous hunk before me. "Don't you know that you are supposed to stay on the trail?" I felt like telling him the same thing, but I couldn't speak. I guess the surprise and shock at seeing him left me too frozen to do anything. It was as though I had stage fright. "Nice tits," He went on to compliment me next. "Your suit does an excellent job at showing them off, and you sure have a lot to show off." I remembered my lack of clothing and all he could see. Most men discretely looked or made a sly reference to the size of my boobs, but just came right out and said exactly what was on his mind. It made him look so comfortable; so powerful. He surprised me and made me feel intimidated. What he did after surprised me even more, for he started up again. He resumed his stroking action. "Oh my God!" I cried out for the third time, taking a step back and getting ready to run away from this pervert. The thought of a guy jerking himself off while admiring my bikini clad body raced through my mind. It left me feeling momentarily confused. I knew the thought should have disgusted me, but he was such a handsome, big, and sexy looking guy. To my amazement, I found the thought actually exciting me. "Don't," He stopped both me and his own stroking action in unison. I distinctly remember counting each pump of his hand. It looked great, the way he ran his hand up and down his wet, slimy, and very long dong. The thing seemed to look even longer when his hand pumped along its length. "I'm sorry. Don't be afraid. Don't you want to see my outfit?" I momentarily feared he might come after me. He looked to be in great shape and could probably catch me long before I reached help. Hell, we were so close that he probably could have caught me before I even made it back to the trail. It reminded me of the time William grabbed by tits while hold my hands behind me. I again got ready to run, but then he removed his hand and I couldn't. I couldn't take my eyes away. It was huge. It was gigantic. It was easily twice as big as any cock I had ever seen before. Full and erect, it stood up at attention like a long shaft from between his legs. Especially impressive was its head. His member looked to be nearly the thickness of my forearm, but the mushroomed-shaped head was more like the size of my fist. And the whole thing was so bright and shiny that it gleamed in the noon-day sun. He did not face me directly but at an angle, which made me appreciate even more his length. I guessed his cock to be ten inches in length, or possibly even a full foot long. It extended up past his belly button. Further stimulation came from below; his balls. I couldn't get over his balls and the way they stood out so firm and hard. They looked to be too big for his sac to contain, swollen as though about to erupt-which I suppose they maybe were. I figure he had been masturbating for quite a while. His whole cock looked magnificent. "Well?" He finally spoke some time later. I am not sure how long I stood there and with my eyes transfixed on him. I knew it was wrong. I realize I must have looked like a horny slut for not running away, but it was too magnificent to pull away. "What do you think of my outfit? You look as though you enjoy your men harnessed." I looked closer and suddenly realized why his nuts looked so ridged. They were tied! A single string, very thin and almost invisible, encircled his waist and went under his cock and balls. The string looked as though it looped around the back of his nut sack and pulled them out. He stood not quite naked, not like I first thought, but with a harness to place his nuts on better display. Then he turned. "And notice the rear too," He next showed me his naked ass. "Notice how the harness does not run between my cheeks like a tong, but leaves the crack exposed for your admiration and possibly for your later use. I took in his words but did not realize the significance of what he said. I was too busy admiring his ass instead. It really was terrific; a hard, muscular, strong ass. One strap went around his waist and two others came up his thighs to join it. No thong traveled up his crack, just like he said. I couldn't help but have naughty thoughts about spanking it and maybe doing other things to it too. I occasionally heard what other girls did to a man's ass. I wanted to try some of their ideas for myself, but none of my old boyfriends ever allowed it. His ass was not as erotic as his cock, of course, but the sight of a man turning around to show off his naked ass sent a burst of heat though my acing loins. "It's revealing," I answered as soon as he turned to face me again. "It's very revealing." I almost choked on my own words. "Thank you, and so is yours," He showed his gratitude. "But I suppose I don't have to tell you how aroused you make me. You can see that for yourself." He certainly was right about that! "Double-D is my guess," He said next. "I mean your tits. They look as though you take a double-D cupped bra. Is that right?" I nodded. He was right. I suppose it wasn't difficult for him to guess correctly, considering how much he could of see. "Double-D but not quite a triple. You do not quite have the biggest size they make, but very close." He appeared to stir right at my tits, but then I realized he had been doing so the entire time. That was why his prick stayed hard. As I locked my eyes on his substantial assets, he in returned locked his own eyes on mine. "Not quite the biggest size they make, but close," He interrupted this disturbing thought to give me another. "Not like me. Not quite the biggest size they make." I nearly stumbled upon hearing his words, knowing what he meant. He was referring, of course, to his own cock. He was effectively saying that his cock was the equivalent of a triple-D cup size for a woman, and I supposed he was right. It was the biggest prick I had ever seen, even bigger than the pictures my girlfriend once downloaded from the Internet. I couldn't help but fantasy what it would feel like to experience it, to stroke it myself, to suck on it, possibly even to be fucked by it-even though I knew there was no way he would be able to fit the thing into a short, petite, young girl like me. "You better get going," He interrupted this disturbing thought. "To the beach, I mean, assuming you are still going. It's just over there." Amazingly, he pointed, but not with his finger. I noticed how his hands remained behind his back and he pointed with his erect cock. "Provided, of course, you still plan to go to the beach?" I briefly considered it. For a moment I thought about it. What would be the harm? A voice questioned inside me. What if I stayed and allowed him to jerk himself off to the sight of my bikini clad body? Memories flooded into my mind of the first time I got to see a man jerk off. It was an old boyfriend, my second serious boyfriend back in High School, made after I refused to allow him to fuck me. It was his idea to play this game where he got to stroke himself in front of me, but only after I gave him a command to do so. He relieved himself with a with a single stroke only after I first allowed it with the single word "stroke." The game had been enormously fun, and now I couldn't help but want to play it with this man. Later, with my boyfriend, I came up with the naughty idea to tease him. I said "stroke" several times in a row to bring him to the edge, and then I refused to allow him to go over. I cock-teased him with his own hand, and now I wanted to do the same with this big man. It felt so wrong, but at the same time if felt so right. I shook my head in bewilderment. I can back to reality. What kind of girl am I? I asked the good, wholesome little girl somewhere inside me. What am I doing? "No thanks," I took a deep breath and answered him with extreme difficulty. "I think I better keep going, at least for now." I nearly ran the rest of the way to the water. Part 3: The Cool Beach I needed water. I needed it bad. After the encounter with HIM, I desperately needed to dive into some cold water to bring myself back down to earth. I not only felt hot, but I think I was in heat. I collapsed into the lake as though I had just run across the Sahara Desert, and it was my first sight of water in a week. I ran down the beach, stumbled out of my sandals, and haphazardly dropped my towel and bag onto the sand. I ran in without looking, never bothering to look around to see if anyone might be watching. The inhibitions about my new bikini left me. My only thought was of HIM and the waiting water. I ran in up to my knees, and then I dropped in face forward like I was still a little girl. The shock of the cold water felt refreshing against the hot skin of my body and the heated beating of my heart. And not only that, but I'm shameful to admit that I could even feel it radiating out from my sex. I found myself horny as hell, probably the horniest I had ever felt in my life-or at least the horniest without actually in the process of receiving intercourse. Memories of my second boyfriend flooded back into my mind. At the end of my little cock-teasing game, after maybe a half-dozen journeys to the edge, I finally let him do it. And did he ever do it! The guy squirted and sprayed like an erupting oil well. I discovered if you make a guy wait awhile and tease him for a few minutes, in the end he will cumm a lot more. It was one of the important lessons I had learned about sex. I've played the game many times since then and have enjoyed it every time. There's something about an erupting cock that I find really exhilarating. And if only I had stayed to play with HIM, I could have witnessed it one more time. I felt a desire to slip my fingers down inside my panties as I thought about the sight of him squirting, until I saw the others... Coming along the beach, not very far away, a couple strolled hand-in-hand as though they were on their honeymoon. My inhibitions returned as they walked towards me, making me remember my bikini. "Hi," the man waved when he got close. His girlfriend also waived but remained silent. "Hi," I returned the greeting, kneeling in the soft sand to keep my big boobs from his sight. The sight of the two of them made me think about HIM again. I imagined just the two of us, the big man and me, walking along the shore just like this a couple. I fantasized his hand in my own, but then I glanced over to see him naked and hard, his huge member sticking up nearly a foot into the air. I think I swam a hundred yards along the beach until I calmed back down enough to keep my hands out of my panties. My muscles ached and my body felt as though it had just run a marathon by the time I again walked upon dry land. By the look of my wrinkled fingers, I think it had been close to a half hour. The bright sun made it unnecessary to dry off. By the time I made it back to my belongings, sweat had replaced the water. I rubbed on sunscreen and then lay down to enjoy myself-or at least I tried to. HE refused to leave my mind. His image remained, especially that of his cock. As I put on the sunscreen, I dreamed what it would feel like for his big hands to rub it onto me instead. And as I lay down to enjoy the burning rays of the sun, I couldn't help but think what it would be like for HIM to lay down on top of me. I found myself getting curious about what he was doing now. He certainly had to be finished with what he first set out to do. I figured he hurriedly continued just after I left while the picture of my sparsely clad body remained fresh in his mind. The thought of it should have made me feel queasy, but instead I felt-I have to admit- it actually made me feel a little proud. I couldn't help but picture him standing up against the tree with his eyes closed, stroking himself with my picture on his mind. Images of his pistoning hand kept playing in my own mind. It was just so big, so huge. Trying to think about it in more detail, I realized his hand covered only about half the length of his shaft. And then I couldn't help but imagine my own hand in his place. My smaller hand could only cover perhaps one-third his length. If I ever got to stroke on anything of such size, my hand would indeed get quite an exercise. Then the naughty thought of him doing it formed in my mind again. I wondered what it would be like to watch him when he finally did cumm. With such a long length and with such obviously big balls, I knew it had to look terrific. I imagined his cock throbbing, pulsating, and then shooting out a huge load of sperm. And then it would do it again, and then again. Instead of spurting two or three times like an ordinary man, I imagined him shooting it a dozen times before he finished. One of my girlfriends jokingly told me that long men could shoot a longer distance. It had something to do with a longer barrel. I thought it a joke at the time, but now I found myself wondering if this was true. I wanted to find out for myself and cursed myself for not staying to watch, even though I knew it would have been so slutty, so wrong. It was then when I saw him again; or rather, I first heard him. "Hello," I recognized the voice before he appeared. "Feeling a little more relaxed now?" He crept up from behind while I lay with my back against the towel, eyes closed, dreaming of HIM. For a brief moment, I thought his voice might have been part of some amazingly vivid dream, but then I quickly came back to the real world. I sat up and turned, looking at him as he looked back at me. He wore cloths, but still did not wear many. He stood a few feet away in a Speedo bikini. In the center, a large budge poked out, limp but still substantial. I found myself wanting to question if he still wore the harness, but of course he did not. The bulge didn't poke out that far! "Sorry if I scarred you back in the forest," He spoke apagogically. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for causing you any fright. I didn't mean to, you know. I thought the place was deserted, but you just happened to walk by at the wrong time." He kneeled and held out his hand to me. "That's all right," I took it, not knowing what to say in reply. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you too. I guess we were both just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time." His hand felt hard and calloused. I couldn't help but realize this was the same hand that had just been beating his meat. "Don't worry about me," He let out a big smile. "You didn't much embarrass me much at all. I work as an exotic dancer so I'm actually kind-of used to it. ...just not quite to that extent." I turned away out of embarrassment, thinking about him performing as an exotic dancer, gyrating his hips in the buff, naked, up on a stage, and with a hundred screaming women all around. I am sure HE would be the main attraction of any show. I found myself tempted to ask where he worked. I wanted to go to take a look for myself. "Listen," He spoke with a lot more calm than I felt inside. "The choice is up to you. I can leave and go back to the public beach if you want, but I would really like to stay awhile and talk. It's not every day some gal comes by and catches me jerking off." I continued to turn away, not knowing what to say. I didn't want to appear like I was some kind of slut, but at the same time I did not want him to leave. He stood without saying more and started to walk away. I looked up to see his tight ass facing me; an ass only half covered by his tiny Speedo bikini, again making me wonder what it would be like to spank him. "No, stop," I heard myself say. It came out involuntarily; my hormones speaking instead of my brain. "Stay, but on one condition." "What's that?" His bulge faced me again. "I just want you to know I'm not that kind of girl." "What kind of girl is that?" I couldn't think of an easy way to explain it, so I decided to just be honest. I admitted this was the first time I ever wore a two-piece bikini, and I told him the reason I sat on this deserted part of the beach was out of embarrassment. I wanted him to know that I wasn't a big boobed bimbo looking for a good time. "You shouldn't be embarrassed," The smile on his face betrayed his thoughts. I could somehow see that my words had intrigued him. "You look great and there is nothing wrong with showing it off a little, especially when you've got it." I felt myself smile back to him. His words could equally apply to himself. His was the first compliment I received on my bikini. "Let's start with names," He offered his hand again. "I'm Robert." "Hi, I'm Diane," I shook his hand a second time. "Glad to meet you more formally this time." I repositioned the towel so he could sit down next to me. He sat close, right up next to me. I distinctly remember our thighs touching. His body towered over me. Even in this seated position, he was so tall my eyes only came up to his neck. "Where's your boyfriend?" He asked. "You must have a boyfriend or maybe a husband around here somewhere. I don't want to piss someone off when they see me talking to you." I laughed. "Certainly no husband, and no boyfriend either," I told him. "I used to have a boyfriend, but we broke up a few days ago." He asked, but I refused to get into the details. "Let's just say we got into a big fight, and I came to the conclusion that he wasn't right for me." "I suppose he fucked you over real good?" Robert questioned. "I guess you can say that," I had to agree. "Must have," He nodded. "To give up a girl as good looking as you." I had to smile. "So you just decided to come up here all alone?" He wanted to know. "Well, yes," I felt almost fearful to admit it. "That could be dangerous," He spoke with seemingly genuine concern. "A beautiful woman such as yourself, all alone, out in the wilderness. I mean, what if some guy sneaked in your camp tonight and try to rape you?" I gasped, but not in fright but in delight. I knew his words should have scarred me, but instead they only teased me. I couldn't help but think of him being the man, sneaking into my tent, and forcing himself upon me. Well, not quite forcing. I knew I would be very willing. "What about you?" I tried to quickly change the subject. "You must have a girlfriend around here someplace too." He shook his head and then shrugged his shoulders. "Why else do you think I was jerking myself off in the trees." "Oh, I see," I felt like an idiot. It was a stupid question. "I was supposed to go on this 3-day hike along the Lake Michigan Trail," He rescued me. "A few of us dancers from the club get together a couple of times a year. Either go hiking or cross country skiing up here in the North Country, depending on the season. It's a good break from tedium of the gym." He shrugged his shoulders. "In our line of work, we naturally need to keep in shape, you know." I understood but was curious. "Where are the rest of them now?" "Screwed up my knee when I took a bad fall in the gym," He explained. "Not bad, just a small sprain." He looked at his own foot. "Not even limping on it any more, but decided it best if not go on a 50 mile hike. So I'm playing the part of designated driver-so to speak. Dropped them off down south and now waiting for them to join me tomorrow night." My arousal grew at the thought of three more. I couldn't help but picture three more exotic dances walking into camp. I naturally wondered if all of them were just as talented as Robert. "What do you do for a living?" He suddenly changed the subject. I told him about my college life south of Chicago. I majored in psychology and was in my third year. Surprisingly, he had Masters degree in a related discipline, sociology, and was actually familiar with many of my classes. He obviously had a brain, which surprised me. Just as men tend to stereotype big boobed women as ditzy, I surprised myself by stereotyping Robert as a dim-witted hunk because of his own features. "What about you?" I decided to return the question. "I mean, you said you worked as an exotic dancer. I'm just curious, what kind of dancer do you do?" "A stripper," He told me point blank. "I work in a strip joint, a male strip joint in Milwaukee. You ever been to a male strip joint?" "Once," I had to admit. "During a bachlorette party. A few girls talked me to one." "Did you enjoy it?" I shrugged my shoulders and felt my face turning red. "I guess so. It was different. Certainly a big change from the usual night on the town." "Did the men strip all the way down?" "Yea," I nodded my head. "Well, so do we," He surprised me. "You'll have to come up and visit some time. I could probably even sneak you and a few of your friends through the backstage entrance if you want." The thought thrilled me. It was thrilling not only because I would get to see him naked again, but also because of my friends. They were never going to believe me! I could almost picture them already, laughing at my story. "A stripper on the beach?" My classmates would say. "Yea, right! We believe you." And then they would fall over themselves laughing. They were never going to believe my story, but then I would show them the tickets and we would drive up to Milwaukee over the weekend. The thought made me excited. Robert and me talked for a while longer. I no longer know how long we talked, but the more we talked the calmer I became. My heart slowed and my panting stopped. Soon, I almost forgot about our nearly naked bodies. We talked about the campground and then about the weather. I told him some more about my school and he talked more about his job. I felt tempted to tell him about the details of what happened between Robert and me, but never did. Our conversation eventually turned into just another ordinary conversation between a man and a woman sitting on the beach. We slowly got to know one another. The normality, however, did not last for long. He soon wanted to leave. "My stomach's starting to growl," He placed his hand on the bands of tight muscles traveling across his nearly flat tummy. "Went without breakfast and could really use a bite to eat. You care to walk down to the club?" I wanted to, but hesitated. I thought of all the people who would see me; see both of us. Glancing along the shore, I saw many more bouncing specs playing both on shore and swimming in the water. It looked crowded, as though everyone in the camp was now at the beach. I did not want them all to see me. "I think I'll stay here," I turned to him. "I think I'll jump back in the water and soak myself for about an hour." He chuckled at this remark. "If not now, then what about tonight. You interested in doing something a little wild tonight?" He asked curiously. I knew what he meant and was very interested, but I didn't want to admit it. "What did you have in mind?" "Well," He leaned closer. "I was just thinking about what happened before. You know, when you saw me in the forest. You seemed very much interested in what you saw. I know you told me that you're not that type of girl, but you still looked as though you impressed with what you saw." I felt myself smile with embarrassment. "I guess you were kind-of impressive." "You mean large." "Yea," I had to admit. "I mean, I don't think I ever saw a guy who was quite so big before." Robert smiled back to me, and then he leaned even closer and spoke more softly into my ear. "I'm glad you liked it, and I assume you are aware of what I was trying to do to it when you caught me." I felt myself smile with embarrassment again. I couldn't give him an answer. He didn't bother waiting for me to regain my composure. I only felt his strong hand around me. He put it around my shoulder, pulled me in closer, and then whispered the most erotic words I ever heard into my ear. "I want you to know Diane that I never finished." I jumped with a start, almost leaving his grip. "I just wanted you to know," He continued. "Just in case you were interested, I didn't want to ruin it for you." I jumped again, this time hard enough to leave his grasp. I found myself off the towel, sitting direct on the hot sand but hardly noticing it. He shimmied closer. "You don't have to and I don't mean to be pushy. It's totally up to you, but I want you to know that I'm still available tonight, if you're interested." I felt my face grow red with embarrassment and shock as he put his hand around my shoulder once again and held me tight. And then he leaned closer, whispered into my ear, and made it even worse. "I want you to know," He spoke quietly. "I want you to know, Diane, that my balls are really swelled up with semen right now, especially after seeing you. By tonight, I think they are going to be ready to burst. And if you want, if you desire it, you can use my shaft to milk them dry." He backed away and stood up. He left me sitting there motionless, speechless; not knowing what to say to such an offer. "If you wish it Diane," He spoke louder now from his standing position. "If you want, you can have my cock tonight, and you can have it however you want. We don't have to fuck if you don't want to. You don't have to do anything at all. You can even just watch if you're into that sort of thing. We can do anything you want, just as long as you empty out the gallons of sperm acing to be milked out of my balls." He bent down to plant a soft kiss on my forehead. "Don't answer right now." He put a single finger up to my lips to hold my voice, although was no need. I did not have the ability to respond. "If you're interested, just put the number of your campsite in the corner of the public bulletin board where you drive in. That will be our secret little message." Part 4: The Hot Fire The wind rustles again, and then I see you. You appear suddenly, like a ghost out of the dark mist. I jump and force myself awake, thinking it only a dream. It must be a dream. Your broad chest, your muscular arms, and the way your blond hair falls down to your shoulders. You are a sexy hunk of a man. I think this is all part of some erotic dream, but then I realize I am awake. You are real! It is a dream come true. It is you Robert, and you came to me as you promised. The sight of you fills me with desire. The clothing you wear tell me your intention. Everything I have ever learned tells me to be afraid and run from a man like you, but I am not afraid and I do not run. All I feel is desire. You stand before me, Robert, on the other side of the campfire. The smoke obstructs my view, but it does not obstruct it enough to provide you with cover. The light of the fire glows too bright to overcome. The flames bath you in plenty enough light to show me your desire. I see you do not wear the Speedo bikini from the beach. Neither do you wear the even smaller harness from that morning. Instead, you stand before me with nothing. I see no article of clothing around your waist or upon your chest. You stand before me nude. And even better, I see you bring me what I desire. I see a raging hard-on standing upright and at attention; a long, thick, giant erection of such proportions my eyes have never witnessed. "Good evening Diane," You greet wearing only a smile. I still wonder if it is a dream, but then the dream becomes more vivid. You walk around the fire and clear of the smoke. I see you do not even wear shoes or sandals. I hear your bare feet sloshing in wet grass of the camp. You are not only naked, but you are absolutely naked. And even better, you are hard. "Hi Robert" I answer shyly, unsure as to what I am supposed to say to a naked man who casually walks into my campsite. I wonder where you placed your cloths. Did you strip as you watched me or did you walk all the way from your own campsite in your current condition? The thought intrigues me, but the answer does not matter. The only important thing is that you are naked. I make no hesitation and boldly stair right at it. I knew it impolite to stair at a man's crotch. I know it only makes my eyes give away my desire, but I can't help it. It is so big. It is so magnificent. You have the most magnificent cock I had ever seen. I have this tremendous desire to grab it and squeeze it with all my strength. "I'm glad you're the type of girl who's not embarrassed about starring," You smile valiantly down on me as I shyly look up at the comment. "Lucky thing I don't mind, so go right ahead. I bring it for you, your own personnel sex toy. You are free to look upon it as much as you want." The release of the words "sex toy" from your lips sends a hot wave of ecstasy up my spine. It starts in my sex and radiates out to the rest of my body. I can't help but take you up on your gracious offer. Like a polite gentleman, you remain hard for me. You keep your organ hard and long for my viewing enjoyment. It is as though I am getting a personalized strip show, but a show with a hard man. "Like it this way better?" I watch as you turn to give me a side profile. "Or like this?" You turn in the opposite direction to allow me to gaze upon the other side. I don't answer. I can't answer. Both sides look magnificent. You cock looks even longer when I see it from the side, as unbelievable as that may sound. The more I look, the more I fantasize. I wonder what it will feel like to touch. I picture myself stroking up and down its long length, and then perhaps tasting its succulent tip with my tongue. Then I imagine myself being fucked by it, provided I can even be fucked by it. It's mushroom head looks to be nearly the size of my fist. I can't imagine being able to accept a thing of such enormous dimensions. "I hope you like my outfit," You interrupt my pleasant fantasy with another. "I certainly like yours. The top is very sexy, but the bottom looks even better. Why don't you move your hands and show me the bottom too?" I briefly glance down and see my hands rest in my lap. I can't remember moving them down there. I suppose that's where they just automatically moved to provide cover when you walked into the camp. I then think about your request and know what you want. You want to see my sex. You want me to show you my pussy, but I don't mind. It makes me feel so dirty, so slutty, but I actually want to do it. I want you to see. First my right hand and then my left, I pull them up and out of the way. I uncover my sex and rest my hands on the armrests of the chair. Between, there is nothing. There is no clothing. I wear no panties and show you everything I have to offer. "Very nice," You compliment as I briefly glance down as though needing to confirm it myself. "That's a very nice pussy you have there, Diane. I like your pussy. Why don't you show me some more? Part your legs a little." I am speechless. You want me to behave like a whore. I am to part my legs and show you my pussy. It gives me an arousal and makes me very willing. "Even nicer," You compliment as I do as you say. "Very nice clit, but more Diane. Show me more." I am forced to crunch down in the chair to open my legs even further, and then I open them even more. "Excellent cunt," You tell me more sharply. "Oh Diane, you have a very nice little snatch there. Small and tight, just the way I like it." I have my legs spread as wide as they can go. The position makes me feel like a slut, but I really don't care. As long as I can see your cock, I really don't care at all. It seems to have grown even bigger as I opened my sex, or perhaps it is just my own hormones. Despite another wisp from the cold breeze through the camp, I feel myself sweating with excitement. "I must say Diane, you have an excellent choice in fashion. I think you have the perfect outfit to wear for tonight's festivities. We're going to have lots of fun and games." I can't help but wonder what kind of fun and games you have in mind. I can think of quite a few. Most, of course, involve your cock. Others, I fantasized, will further require my pussy and tits. I sit anxious for the games to begin. "I'm glad you like my outfit," I finally say something. "I wore it just for you." You smile and give me a node. "And I wore mine especially for you too." I feel myself smiling back; almost panting with desire. "It's very nice too, I mean your outfit. I appreciate your outfit too." "Oh, you noticed," You recognize gracefully. "I wore it just for you. Do you like my ring?" I am confused. I thought you were naked, but apparently you wear a ring on your finger. But then I look at your fingers and see no ring. "No, not that kind of ring," You seem to read my mind, glancing down at your own fingers, first at one hand and then the other. "I guess you failed to notice. I was talking about my other ring, if you care to take a closer look?" You take two steps closer and then take a glance down at your own organ. I automatically follow your eyes and see it. "Oh my!" I gasp. A ring of gold surrounds the base of your erect member. "Oh my God!" I gasp in surprise at the sight of the cock- ring. "Yes, you see it now," You again read my mind, although I suppose that is now easy to do. "Have you ever seen a man with a cock ring before?" "No," I choke out an answer. "It's very nice." You stand now not more than two feet away. And you stand at an angle to me, giving me a side-profile of your member and a better view of the cock-ring. It appears even bigger now. The giant has grown into a monstrosity. "I'm glad you like it, but do you realize it is not just for ornamentation?" You speak casually. "It is not like a ring on a man's finger. It actually serves a useful purpose. Do you know what that purpose is?" I shake my head out of confusion. I do not know what you are talking about. "Let me explain," You change the tone of your voice to that of a teacher giving a lesson (a lesson in sex education). "There are two reasons for a cock-ring. The first is to trap blood in the length of the male organ, thus making it slightly longer, wider, and harder for your pleasure." I cringe with each word. "Longer, wider, harder," The words echo in my mind. You member indeed takes on all three delicious properties, and it takes them on in abundance. Your cock is already magnificent, but now I look closer and see how the ring fits tightly around the base. It looks as though it even digs into the skin slightly, wanting to crush the base of your member. Clearly, its installation took place under flaccid and soft conditions. There is no way I could pull it off now, making me realize your words are true. "Well?" You question. "Do you see how tight it fits and how it swells my member, trapping the blood in my length?" "Oh yes," I quickly answer with a little more enthusiasm than I want. Thankfully, you do not seem to notice my heightened state of arousal. Or maybe you do and just ignore me. "Go ahead and feel it for yourself," You offer. "You don't have to, of course, but if you want..." My hand is already half way there. I do not consciously move it. It approaches by itself, obeying my ecstasy and not my mind. It is as though it no longer belongs to me but follows the instructions of another. "Go ahead," You prompt me when I stop. "I know you're not that type of girl, but I know you want to." You take another step closer, and it is too late. You bring yourself to me, and it visibly flinches as the tips of my fingers rub against it. Your member moves on its own, which is erotic to watch. I cannot help but want to touch it some more. It filches again as I rub the tips of my fingers along its long length. I start near the tip and move down to the base. It feels even longer than it looks. It is also harder. When I move back up again and touch your mushroom head, it flinches a third time and then starts to pre- cumm. "Oh my!" I can't help. You are obviously very horny. I realize what you said earlier was true. You really did hold out and wait for me. Your organ feels like it is desperate to be jacked-off, and I realize I am to be jacker. "Good Diane," You prompt me to go on. "That's very good." I need no prompting. I run my fingers over the tip of your cock-head. I run them through your cream and spread it down to your shaft. As soon as I am done, it pre-cumms some more and I repeat the process. You are incredibly hard. You have the hardest, firmest organ I have ever felt. I try to pull it down, and it hardly moves. It wants to stay ridged and hard in the fucking position. Especially exciting is your mushroom tip. It is like any other cock-head, smooth and slick with juice, but it is so swollen. The folds of skin around your mushroom head feel as though they are made out of bone. I wonder if it is you or the fault of the cock-ring. I hear you pant with excitement and decide to concentrate on it there; on the head of your cock. The motion of my hand makes you pre-cumm some more. Each time you do so I take advantage of it. I make sure to use it to spread it down along your shaft. It takes a lot of cream to cover your extra long shaft, but you are a good creamer. You pre-cumm as though you are desperate for me to masturbate on you, and soon I do. I take hold of your massive bulk and squeeze it. The motion makes you cry out and pre-cumm even more. I squeeze it again, and then yet again. You reaction is less intense each time. I think about stroking it. I feel even desperate to stroke it, but then I remember something else. "No Diane," You react when I let go. I move my hand down, down the length of your shaft, down to your crotch, and then down even further to your balls. "Very nice," My bravery increases the more I touch you. I take your balls in my hand and feel them. Even your nuts are big. "I want what you have inside these," I tell you, shocking myself with my own words. "You may have it," You respond. "You may have all I have to offer." And I do. I move my hand back up to your shaft and begin stroking. "Oh yes," You almost cry out. It is so long. I can't get over how long it is. I feel my hand needing to travel much further than it is accustomed it. And as I stroke, I feel it pre-cumm some more. It takes a lot of cream to cover the length of your organ, but you are up to the task. Soon, it is soaking in its own juices. I stroke on it again and again, up and down along the length of your member. I masturbate on the member I accidentally saw in the woods, wanting to see it squirt. But you do not squirt. Instead, you appear to calm down even though I continue stroking. "There is also a second reason for a cock-ring," You suddenly speak. "A reason I am sure you will find even more pleasurable." I do nothing except continue my strokes. "For as the cock-ring prevents blood from flowing out of the male shaft," You continue, speaking more slowly now. "It also prevents cumm from traveling into the shaft, extending the length of time the male can remain aroused." It takes a moment for this fact to register into my mind, but as soon as it does I immediately realize its implications. "I am very happy and am pleasantly honored to inform you," Your voice seems to come out of a dream. "Diane, I'm afraid you will, in fact, have a very difficult time in getting me to cumm for you tonight. It will take you considerable time and substantial effort to make me eject as long as I continue to wear this cock-ring." I almost fall over in the chair with the shock of your words. If not for the strong cock I hold in my hands, I might have fallen into the fire. And then you make it even worse. "And when you do make me cumm, the spent up sperm is going to make me explode like a cannon. I hope you are well rested for tonight's activities because I do not expect you will be getting much sleep before morning." * * * * * He was right. I hardly slept at all that night, for there was a third item I would like to add to Robert's list of reasons to enjoy a cock-ring. In addition to keeping a man stiff and making it difficult for him to eject, I presently discovered a cock-ring was very good at keeping a man hard even after I finally did get him to eject. Despite the cock-ring and the extreme difficulty it took to get him to cumm, he did so in various positions and locations three times more morning. And by the way, he was able to fit inside me after some considerable effort. Now I can't wait until tomorrow night when his friends plan to entertain me too. To be continued??? * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 13